


A Bug In Your Ear

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's his worst nightmare. John's about to watch Rodney die trying to rescue him--and he's powerless to do anything to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bug In Your Ear

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the romancingmcshep fest, so there will be a happy ending. The premise for this story came from an old, old ST:TOS fanfic I read many years ago, when Nurse Chapel was staked out in a snake pit and Spock had to save her without either one of them being bitten. And they were both naked. Going from that basic start, I gave this story the usual Pegasus twist, and touched upon as many movie and television references as I could stuff in along the way.
> 
> EDIT: I've been informed that the fanfic I remembered was titled Snake Pit and it is in the New Voyages Anthology (vol 2). But it was Nurse Chapel who rescued ~~Spock~~ Kirk! With Spock watching! Even better! I've got to go track that story down now...

_What the...?_

John felt the sharp sting on the side of his neck and annoyance turned to sudden apprehension. Worse than a bee sting; it felt almost as though the muscle had been torn. Only he hadn’t been doing anything, just standing there, chatting up the natives. Clapping his hand to his neck, he pulled away a small dart. He stared at the red-and-black fledged dart for a moment as his brain processed exactly what it was he held in his hand, long, precious moments ticking past before he turned to Rodney with a warning.

Rodney, however, was looking at him with shock and horror, his expressive mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise.

The world slipped sideways, grew fuzzy around the edges, and all John could do was mouth the words ‘I’m sorry’.

Because he was. Because it was his job to see that things like this didn’t happen. Because getting darted in the neck with something powerful enough to knock him out within seconds could never be a good thing, and because he knew he was leaving Rodney defenseless as he slumped to the ground.

When he woke, it was obvious that his already Bad Day had gotten Much Worse. There was no sign of Rodney, of the villagers, hell, of even the village. John was stretched out spread-eagle on his back, his arms and legs staked to the ground with strong leather ties holding him in place. He was naked. All in all, that was enough to send up red flags, but that wasn’t worst part. That alone didn’t send adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins, his heart pounding as though it might leap from his thorax like the creature from _Alien_ and crawl off, leaving him behind with a gaping hole in his chest.

He was covered with Iratus bugs.

Oh sure, they weren’t full size. Juveniles, most likely. As he looked down his nose at his chest, he was struck by the soft fluttering movement of the chitinous flaps that covered the expandable abdomen of the bugs, the little restless twitches of legs. He slowly let out the breath he’d been holding ever since he opened his eyes. He was the center of a puppy pile of sleeping baby Iratus bugs. They blanketed his body like a living carpet. They rose and fell with the movement of his chest. Occasionally a slight chirring noise reached his ears. It was a good thing he was staked so tightly or he would have leapt up yelling and smacking at them. As it was, he was almost afraid to breathe.

_Fear Factor, Pegasus Style._

The dispassionate soldier in him told himself to shut the fuck up and assess the situation.

 _You’re fucked, fucked, totally fucked!_ The part of him that hated bugs shrieked at him, demanding that he move, he fight, that he do something. All he could do, however, was clamp his lips tightly together as one of the Iratus bugs crawled over its brethren and tentatively explored the lower part of his jaw with its forked tail curving over its back as it touched him. He breathed hard through his nostrils as the inquisitive exploration continued, relaxing only slightly when the bug moved on, skittering across his shoulder and off his body.

He was in an arena of some sort. He lay in the center of a high-walled pit, the hard, rocky soil biting into his skin where he was staked to the ground. The sides were too high to climb easily, even it if hadn’t been for walls of crumbling sod or the escape-proof feature of the curling overhang. Obviously, someone didn’t want the bugs—or prisoners—to get out. This information trickled through his brain like molasses; slowly and impossibly thick. Whatever it was that had knocked him out was still playing havoc with his ability to think. It didn’t get any better, however, when he finally connected the dots.

He was on display. 

This was part of some fucking ritual.

Thank God Ronon and Teyla hadn’t been able to come with them today. Okay, granted, maybe if they had, the ambush wouldn’t have taken place. Given how effective the dart had been at knocking him out, however, it was more likely that his entire team would have been taken hostage, and there would now be no chance of rescue. He had to hold onto the hope that whatever was about to happen to him, Ronon and Teyla would somehow find out about it in time and come to save the day. Hell, he didn’t even care if they made him look bad in the process. He was cool with that. As long as they came.

And as long as the others were safe. As long as Rodney was safe.

Where was Rodney? What had happened to the rest of the scientists and diplomats that were John’s responsibility? Cautiously, he started to turn his head to see if anyone else had been staked out beside him. The small moment caused a wave of reaction in his blanket of bugs, an ill-tempered stirring that made him catch his breath until they settled back down.

_Slowly. Take it easy. Work this out._

His field of view was somewhat limited. By virtue of lifting his head a millimeter at a time, he was able to look down his body and between his bare feet. At the far end of the arena, there was a set of heavy wooden doors. That must have been how he was brought into the pit in the first place. A moment of panic threatened to overwhelm him as he became aware of several things at once. The first was that a particularly large Iratus bug had positioned itself right beside his exposed dick, its exoskeleton expanding and contracting with his own respiration rate.

The second was that he couldn’t feel much below his knees, which probably meant at least one of the bugs was attached and secreting the neurotoxin that would eventually paralyze him. Unless, of course, this was an after-effect of the drug that rendered him unconscious. Or that the bonds on his feet were too tight. Whatever the cause, even if he could escape, he was unlikely to be able to move fast.

The third was if you said _you’re so fucked_ often enough, it started to become funny, in a sick, twisted sort of way.

He forced himself to take slow, calming breaths. Not too deep, though. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb the bugs.

Logic dictated there had to be another entrance—a means of containing the bugs while whoever it was had pegged him to the ground like a butterfly in a collector’s specimen case. No one in their right mind would voluntarily walk into a pit of Iratus bugs. 

The cold, damp ground sapped the heat right out of his body, setting up involuntary shivers deep in his arm muscles. Maybe it was the effects of the anesthetic wearing off, or the bug toxin working its way through his system. All he knew was that an enervating chill had set in and was sucking the will to fight right out of him. Because there was fuck-all he could do about escaping. Even if he could move without disturbing the bugs, he was stretched out so completely that he had no leverage for working off his bonds. Struggling was futile, and only likely to make the bugs angry.

_You won’t like me when I’m angry._

His brain just wouldn’t quit, would it? Always ready with a television or movie reference, the quick quip in the face of danger. Without an audience, though, the wise-cracking hero routine wore a bit thin.

Where was his audience, by the way? If he was on display, they should be there, making the most of his discomfort and fear. He glanced up at the walls surrounding the pit. The sun, burning feebly through the heavy mist, shone down into the arena, but where he lay was still in shadow. His sense of time and place were skewed by having been drugged and moved, but it didn’t feel like he’d been out that long. The sun was gradually creeping toward the center of the sky and the mist was starting to lift. It had to be sometime late morning. In which case, he’d only been unconscious about a half-hour or so.

_Always provided you’re still on the same planet. You know they all look the same._

No. One thing at a time. He’d assume for now that he was still on P6A-774.

Carefully, he turned his head to the left. If there was another door he couldn’t see it. No one was staked out next to him either. The rocky dirt was bare of any life form; all the bugs seemed to be huddled on top of John.

A small sound off to his right caught his attention. Resting his head briefly on the ground, he took another deep breath before slowly turning to see what had made the noise. His eyes bugged out when he saw a large Iratus queen laying eggs not all that far away from his position. She was huge; at least foot longer than the normal adults. He watched in sick fascination as the plates on the back of her body lifted and a large, gleaming white egg appeared at the end of her ovipositor. The egg slid out from her body with the same sticky web-like material that the Iratus bugs used to trap their victims, and bile rose up in John’s throat.  
He quickly squashed it, knowing how easy it would be to choke and drown in his current, fixed position.

_Wouldn’t that be better? Than being eaten alive by a carpet of bugs?_

No. No, it wouldn’t. He had to get out of this somehow because he had to find out what had happened to Rodney and the others. It was his responsibility to get them off this godforsaken mudball and safely back to Atlantis. He’d been right, damn it. He’d said coming here was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to him? No.

He’d argued against the mission as soon as they’d discovered that P6A-774 (better known as Merek to the locals) was home to Iratus bugs. That Iratus bugs were native to Merek came as no big surprise; John had taken one look at the moss-covered planet wreathed in mist and had known it would be home to some of Pegasus’s worst nasties. At the briefing, Rodney had started calling the planet Mirkwood, and the nickname had caught on among the more experienced expedition members. Some of the diplomatic types had just laughed nervously at the Hobbit reference. John and Rodney had just exchanged one of those glances that conveyed their joint pity for the uninitiated to the joys of Pegasus.

“I understand your concerns, Colonel,” Woolsey had said, when John had registered his objections to sending a team back to the planet. “But it’s not likely that they will run into a nest of Iratus bugs while they are there.”

“Not as long as we stick to the path.” Rodney’s sarcasm had been plainly evident. “The Colonel has a point, strange as that may be. Why can’t the Merekans come to Atlantis for the negotiations?”

Rodney’s withering scorn had made it seem like his concern was about his own well-being and had nothing to do with covering for John’s bug phobia. Which, of course, Rodney wasn’t. Because John didn’t have a bug phobia. Any normal person would steer clear of bugs that were related to the Wraith. No need to bring the word ‘phobia’ into this.

Teyla, who’d already been showing the first signs of the flu that had hit the city recently, looked up with red-rimmed eyes and wiped her nose. “It would substantially increase the bargaining position of the Merekans should they see the city for themselves. If they knew the extent to which the Ancestors built their technology around the crystals...”

“Yeah.” Ronon had still looked disgustingly healthy at the briefing. “You guys need to learn how to haggle better. I thought your Ancestors bought the city of Manhattan for a few colored beads? Maybe you should’ve taken notes.” Ronon’s smile, blindingly white, had been downright evil.

“We have.” John’s response had been a lazy drawl. “We’re trying to treat the locals better this time.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t give away all your stuff so readily. When you do, people think you’re an idiot they can take advantage of.”

John had shrugged. “You volunteering to take point on this one, Big Guy? Because if so—”

“No, no.” Woolsey’s interruption was hasty and his smile forced. “Much as we appreciate your willingness to negotiate on our behalf, Ronon, we have a team of trained diplomats ready to take on this task.”

In the end, the city’s need for power had outweighed John’s objections to going dirtside. Merek had unusually large deposits of raw crystal, the kind that the Ancients used in nearly every piece of tech they’d ever designed. The native population had been pathetically eager to negotiate for mineral rights. And it had seemed pretty straightforward, too. The groundwork had been laid by Lorne’s team but because Rodney was going down to inspect the raw crystal himself, John had chosen to lead this current mission. There was no way John was going to let Rodney go off-world with another team (okay, without him). Even when first Teyla, and then Ronon, had been unable to come with them.

_See what happens when you leave Atlantis without your A- team?_

He should have known better. It was goddamn Pegasus, after all. Had he really gotten so complacent after all these years? If so, he and probably the rest of his temporary team today, were about to pay for his carelessness.

But he hadn’t seen it coming. Hell, there was nothing to see! Just a dart out of nowhere, and now this. There had been no warning, no sign of trouble. 

The queen, having deposited another egg, scurried away over the sand and rocks somewhere beyond John’s line of sight, her tail shuddering as she carried it over her back. She looked very much like a scorpion. Thank God Iratus bugs were more like spiders in their activity. They preferred to let their prey become entangled in their sticky webs rather than actively go out and hunt them, otherwise on any given day, a trip off-world could end up like a scene from _Eight-Legged Freaks_.

Unable to see anything to his advantage, he rolled his head back to center, back to face the murky gray sky with its anemic sun. He closed his eyes. It was like that mission to check out the LaGrange Point Satellite all over again, only this time Rodney wasn’t going to charge in at the last minute to buy him extra time until the cavalry arrived. He should have learned his lesson then. There was no such thing as a milk run in Pegasus. Especially on a diplomatic mission. He should have waited until at least Teyla or Ronon could come. He should have brought additional soldiers with him. Somehow, though, he suspected that more military wouldn’t have changed anything. Perhaps even made it worse.

_How the fuck could this get any worse?_

The sound of hinges creaking made him jerk his head up suddenly, causing an angry shift in the bugs resting on his chest. He didn’t care; he had to see what was going on. Looking between his numb feet, he saw the doors to the arena slowly open. Two bearded men entered the arena cautiously. Their black vests had long panels that fluttered over red tunics; it didn’t take a genius to recognize they were meant to imitate the shape and color of the Iratus bugs. Great. Just bloody great. This whole set-up had a nasty stink to it.

The two men were holding some sort of staff weapon in front of them, pointing low at the ground. 

It reminded John of the weapons the Jaffa used in service of the Goa’uld. Probably worked against the bugs. Now, if John could only get his hands on one of those...

Movement above his head caught his attention. 

_Ah, here we go._

Here was the audience at last, people lining up at the rim of the pit, many of them dressed in the same black and red garments, though he saw many more that looked like typical villagers. There was an air of excitement among them, like children at a circus. The smell of roasting meat wafted down to John, making his mouth water despite his situation. He craned his head backward and saw someone passing meat kabobs through the crowd, as money changed hands. 

Great. He was the center of a goddamned party.

Anger surged through him, more bitter and hot than the adrenaline before. Nostrils flaring, he tensed his body for an all out fight against his bonds when the crowd began chanting, softly at first, and then with rising intensity. The two men at the gate stood back, staffs at attention, as they parted to make way for someone else to enter the arena. 

_No. For fuck’s sake, no._

Things had just gotten exponentially worse.

Rodney was there at the entrance to the pit.

After all these years together, he could read Rodney’s body language at a distance. This was Rodney being reluctant to do something, but grimly determined just the same. John knew by the way he’d rounded in on himself, the way he was hanging back at the gate, that Rodney was being forced into the arena. And yet, from John’s position, no one seemed to be holding a gun to Rodney’s head.

Rodney was also naked.

After a word to the rigidly unmoving sentinels at the gate, Rodney lifted his chin. Even from this distance, John thought he could hear Rodney’s long inhaled breath. He watched with sick dread as Rodney picked his way carefully through the gate on the uneven ground. The roar of approval that greeted his appearance in the arena made Rodney flinch and come to a halt. If he’d been a cat, he would have flattened his ears and hissed. Instead, Rodney shielded his eyes with one hand to glare up at the crowd; the other hand covered his genitals. When the guards at the gate moved out and pulled the doors shut, he took a half-step toward them as if to dash out before it was too late. The doors clanged shut with a reverberation of sound that made it all the more final in tone.

Pity now was the one and only time John would ever see Rodney naked in all his glory. In all their years in Atlantis, Rodney had never changed in the prepping area. He’d always come fully dressed in fatigues, only putting on his tac vest and gathering all his various bits of equipment while the others dressed for action. John had teased him about it once and the bleak look in Rodney’s eyes had stopped him in his tracks, at least on that score. He could still remember tightness of Rodney’s mouth when he’d said, “Gym class.” Those two words summed up a lifetime of torture at the hands of his fellow classmates, all too-willing to pick on someone different. Someone who wasn’t athletic, but was smart and caustic, and just begging to be taken down a notch or two.

Jeannie had shown him a picture of Rodney as a teenager once; impossibly thin, with gorgeous honey-blond curls and eyelashes any woman would kill to possess. He’d suddenly understood Rodney’s reluctance to change in front of everyone else, had been painfully aware that it was jocks like him that had probably made Rodney self-conscious. John had always wondered why Rodney even bothered to come to the changing area at all; why he didn’t just meet them in the gate room. Well, John had gotten in the habit of checking Rodney’s gear for him, making sure his vest was on right, giving a final check to the military side of the equation, so to speak. Maybe it had just been a habit for Rodney, too.

However, now, in the growing warmth of the pale Merek sun, John saw that Rodney’s previous bragging was justified; he _did_ have a magnificent ass. John felt vaguely cheated that Rodney had hidden his magnificence from view all these years. It’s not like John would have acted on it inappropriately. Even now, the persistence with which Rodney shielded his cock was a little frustrating. Hell, John was about to die here. At least satisfy his late-night, can’t-sleep curiosity just a bit.

When Rodney turned toward him again, it was with that same look of determination he’d had on his face when he’d popped up from behind a rock and started shooting at the UberWraith back on that dead planet all those years ago. With surprising accuracy, he’d emptied his magazine at the Wraith that day. Out of bullets, he’d plaintively asked John what to do next, even as the Wraith left off his attack on John to deal with Rodney. John would never forget watching Rodney reload with shaking hands, his entire focus on the weapon as the Wraith bore down on him. John had known in that single crystalline moment that he loved Rodney McKay.

As he watched Rodney mincing his way across the rocky soil now (John could almost hear him saying, “I have very _tender_ feet!”), one hand still protecting his crotch and the other waving at his side for balance, John knew he loved him still. And as Rodney made his way closer to John, muttering “ow, ow, ow” with every step, John knew he’d never seen such courage in his entire life. If they managed to get out of this one alive, he was going to tell Rodney he loved him. This time he’d really do it.

Who the hell was he kidding? They weren’t going to make it out of this one alive. This was his worst nightmare come to life. He’d always known this day would come, as long as they stayed in Pegasus. She was too unforgiving for that, even to the ones that loved her most. He’d always meant for it to be him that went out in a blaze of glory, so he wouldn’t have to see what happened to the others. So that he’d never have to have a moment like this, when he watched someone as afraid and brave as Rodney throw his life away for John. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But in his darkest moments, John had always been afraid that it would turn out this way. That it would be his screw-up that would land them in a situation just like this.

That he would have to watch Rodney die and be powerless to stop it.  
“What the fuck are you doing here, McKay?” Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could convince Rodney to leave. Just turn around and go back to the door. Pound on it until someone let him out.

“Hey! No talking! You’re going to piss off the bugs!” Rodney shook an index finger in his direction before dropping his gaze to the rocky soil once more. His other hand still cupped his cock, protecting it from view. “I can’t believe they wouldn’t let me have my sunscreen,” he muttered as he continued his precarious approach toward John. Raising his voice in the belief that John hadn’t heard him before, he shouted. “Just sit tight. Well, you know what I mean. Give me a second. I’m coming. I’ll fill you in on the details then.”

“Rodney!”

“Don’t ‘Rawd-ney’ me!” Rodney yelled back, red in the face. “Look! Look! You’re upsetting the bugs!”

John didn’t need to look; he could feel the restless stirring of the bugs covering his chest and abdomen. His legs? Not so much.

Rodney picked his way among the sharper bits of stone. “There,” he said with satisfaction as he got closer to John. “Now we can... _fuck_!”

He broke off abruptly, staring at John as though seeing him for the first time. The hysterical portion of John’s mind wanted to point out the sexual connotation of Rodney’s last sentence and burst into braying laughter. That portion was swamped, however, by the sick knowledge that Rodney had come into the pit, naked and defenseless, to die with John. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. This had to be a bad dream, right? He’d wake up any moment now, and realize it was a nightmare. The creepy-crawly tickle of bugs shifting position on his chest belied that forlorn hope. He and Rodney were totally screwed.

The look on Rodney’s face was truly priceless. Fear, horror, revulsion—they flickered over his features like heat lightning on a summer’s evening. There was something more, however, a thunderous black cloud rolling in and sweeping every other emotion away.

It was outrage.

Rodney was well and truly pissed. The hand covering his dick dropped to his side and clenched into a fist, all concerns of propriety and skin cancer evaporated away. His eyes narrowed and he ducked his head like a bull about to charge. John wouldn’t have been surprised if Rodney had pawed the ground, only, yeah, the whole ‘tender feet’ thing.

Instead, Rodney stooped down to clear a small patch of soil free from rocks so that he could carefully rest one knee on the ground beside John. He propped his forearm across his other knee, in a position to get up quickly if necessary. John approved of the care Rodney took to place himself in a defensible position, even as he wished Rodney was far, far away.

“I’m going to get you out of this.” Rodney spoke in all seriousness.  
It was such a blatant impossibility, and Rodney so obviously believed what he was saying, that John had to shut his eyes against the sudden, unwelcome sting of tears.

“Rodney, you shouldn’t be here.” His voice cracked, as brittle and dry as an empty lakebed.

“Of _course_ , I shouldn’t be here.” Rodney’s eyebrow added ‘you moron’, just in case John missed it in his voice. “I should never be on these kinds of missions. But someone had to verify the quality of the crystals available and Radek can’t be trusted with these kinds of decisions and—”

“You trust Radek with your life.” John cut him off. “You know what I mean. Admit it, you love going off-world.”

“Unlike you, I’m not an adrenaline junkie.” Rodney cast a glance over John’s stretched-out body. Fascination and horror warred for supremacy as he made a full assessment. For once, John couldn’t tell what Rodney was thinking. 

Rodney grimaced, presumably as a few of the bugs moved. “Someone has to see that you stay out of trouble. Much as I like trading witty banter with you under the worst of circumstances, would you like to hear my plan?”

“Yes, please.” John responded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Rodney had an escape plan. Rodney. If John could have reached his ass, he would have kissed it goodbye because that was it. It meant that they were on their own and Rodney was just winging it here. As much as John counted on Rodney to bring up downed shields, breathe life into malfunctioning jumpers, or invent new math to solve an eleventh-hour crisis, rescue operations were not his forte. Any small hope John had that they might have been able to get out of this alive evaporated with the strengthening heat of the sun overhead.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says that any plan that I came up with couldn’t possibly be as good as a plan that Lt. Colonel Batshit-Insane would invent and we’re all doomed, doomed I say.”

“I’d never say that.”

“I know, hence The Look.”

“Rodney.” He meant for it to come out in the same bantering tone. After all, that was the code. Go out shooting, don’t go down without a fight, and make sure you keep them laughing all the way to the grave; that was the motto, right? It said so in the Flyboy’s Handbook. Instead, the bleakness of their situation leached into his voice, and Rodney’s face went pale.

“Hey, hey. None of that. I _am_ getting you out of this.”

“You should go.”

“I can’t.”

Ah, now they were getting to the truth of the matter.

“Rodney?”

“Okay, okay, this is sort of my fault, okay? I didn’t know about the cultists. I was just making conversation, you know? You know how I suck at small talk.”

“Rodney.” He spoke with his ‘get on with it’ voice. “What cultists?”

“Right. Well, Ustan and I were talking. You know Ustan, right? The really tall guy with the bad teeth? As opposed to the rest of the population, which has bad teeth as well. Have you ever wondered about Satedan dentistry? Because, seriously, Ronon has an amazing set of choppers. I mean, I’d like their dental plan, you know? Right , where was I? Well, anyway, Ustan was going on about the dangers of mining the crystal—just to jack up the price in negotiations, I’m sure. Anyway, he brought up the Iratus bugs, and how deadly they were, and I said we _knew_ because you were probably the only person who’d ever survived an Iratus bug attack...” Rodney trailed off, his face turning red. “So, um, anyway, this is apparently a big deal to the Merekans. They have this whole religious cult centered on the worship of Iratus bugs.”

“Well, isn’t that just peachy.” John clenched his fist as one of the bugs crawled across his armpit onto his shoulder and he couldn’t flick it away. 

“Yeah.” Rodney sounded completely demoralized. “I didn’t know. I mean, how _could_ I’ve known? On second thought, I should have known because most religions at heart are really—”

“McKay! The plan?”

John wasn’t the only one growing restless. He could hear a sort of unpleasant murmuring rumble through the crowd like the first hint of a storm to come.

“Right, right.” Rodney shifted uncomfortably and jiggled his leg out behind him, the action of a man whose foot was going to sleep. He paused to shoot a dark glare, like some sort of McKay solar eclipse, up at the crowd, which had started to gesture and point.

“Rodney.” John tried not to sound desperate. “The bugs are moving.”

“Relax, that’s all part of my plan.” Rodney actually tapped the side of his temple. Impossibly, a crooked smile appeared on his face. No longer trying to cover himself up, Rodney was remarkably unaware of his state of nakedness now that he’d gotten rolling on his explanation. With one knee on the ground and resting his weight on the other foot, everything was pretty much right there for John to see. At any other time, John would have found the situation either funny or gratifying. His gaze kept being drawn against his will to stare at Rodney’s cock because, holy shit. Rodney was uncut. He knew he shouldn’t look, that he should be concentrating on more important things, but damn. Rodney’s cock was practically in his face and it was different and better than John could have ever imagined.

Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD was naked and leaning over John with an engaging smile on his face, and this was so like a twisted fantasy that John wondered again if he was dreaming.

If he was, he needed to make sure he never had whatever it was he’d had for dinner again because obviously, his subconscious was a sick sonaofabitch.

“So, apparently, according to the Bug Cult People, you’re the Man who Lived Twice, a central figure in some great prophesy of theirs. I tried to explain that you had considerably more than two lives, but they wouldn’t listen.” 

Yep, if they got out of this mess, John was going to tell Rodney exactly how he felt about him. Right after he killed Rodney, that is.

“Now, according to Teyla—”

“Wait, you spoke to Teyla?”

“She’s here now. I introduced her to the miracle of Dayquil. Teyla and Ronon both are here. I managed to finagle them through the Gate based on the fact that they’re part of your family.” Rodney looked immensely pleased with himself. 

John didn’t know which had touched him more, the casual way Rodney had decided Ronon and Teyla were ‘family’ and made it work to their advantage, the way Rodney had convinced Teyla to take an over-the-counter cold medicine when Teyla firmly believed that if it wasn’t life-threatening, it was best to let the body heal itself, or the fact that Rodney seemed to think they really didn’t need anyone besides Teyla and Ronon to make this escape plan work. He hoped Rodney was right.

“Never mind, tell me about the plan.”

Rodney shielded his eyes with his hand to look up at the sky this time, and then down at John again. Forming a box with his hands like a photographer checking lens angles, he held his arms out toward John and turned his head sideways. “There’s no rush. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“McKay!”

“No seriously. We have to wait. That’s part of the plan.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” John ground out each word with extreme deliberation, his voice rising in volume and pitch by the end of his sentence, “I’m covered in bugs!”

Rodney winced as he shifted weight off his left knee, changing to a squatting position. John wouldn’t have thought he could hold that squat very long, but then again, Rodney had obviously been working out. Why hadn’t John noticed before what strong thighs he had? Or the breadth of his shoulders? Okay, the biceps he knew about because seriously, Rodney was forever getting pissy and crossing his arms over his chest. There was no way Rodney didn’t know that his arms (especially in those short sleeved uniforms the science team favored) were one of his best features. That had to be why he’d been taunting John with them ( _and that ass, don’t forget that ass_ ) for years. 

Obviously, whatever the Bug Cultists had shot John up with, it was the good stuff.

“I _have_ noticed you’re covered in bugs, and I’m sorry, really I am.” Rodney shuddered theatrically. His face shuttered suddenly as he flicked a glance up and down John’s body. The tip of his tongue appeared to moisten his lips.

John wondered about this reaction, even as he knew instinctively that Rodney was unaware of it.

“Trust me, this is all part of the plan. Look, we all know the bugs like dark, damp caves, right? Well, look at the sun.” Rodney pointed overhead. “It’s coming out from behind the clouds and it’s nearly mid-day. Pretty soon, it will be shining down into the arena at full strength. The bugs are on top of you now for warmth, but when the sun comes out, it will be too hot, too bright for them. They should shift off you and head for the shadows.”

Okay, that made a weird sort of sense.

“Let me explain.” Rodney shook his head. “No, that will take too long, even for me. I’ll give you the Grunts-Only Reader’s Digest version.”

“I’m not a grunt.” Was he really going to lay here trading barbs with McKay? It had to be the drugs talking. Though he might as well indulge himself before the end came.

“Excuse me, _Flyboy_. Same diff. Right, now if you would just stop interrupting me...”

Seriously. Going. To. Kill. Him.

“Where were we? Oh right. Teyla. Anyway, according to Teyla, the Bug Cult is a small, loosely organized group throughout the galaxy. Small because anyone who gets cozy with Iratus bugs sooner or later dies. That’s where you come in. Apparently there’s this weird prophesy about the Man Who Lived, the only person ever to have survived an Iratus attack. As usual, these things are pretty vague. The Man with Two Lives is supposed to bring either great sorrow to Pegasus or save the galaxy from the ultimate destruction. Or both. Either way, the Bug People decided if you could survive an Iratus attack once, you should be able to survive a second one as well. Hence the sacrifice with an audience.” Rodney indicated the crowd. 

At his hand gesture, the crowd, which had been getting progressively noisier, began to clap and cheer. Some people on the opposite side of the arena, however, booed loudly.

“What’s this got to do with you? What about the rest of our party? What happened to them? How are we supposed to get out of this?” John felt bad at snapping when Rodney’s face fell.

“I convinced the leaders to let the others go back in exchange for Ronon and Teyla coming to represent your family.” Rodney lifted his chin defiantly. “Don’t worry. I got everyone out safely. I knew that would be important to you.” His expression altered abruptly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I have to tell you, Jennifer apparently had a meltdown when Ronon left the infirmary. According to Teyla, she began screaming that it was her goddamned sickbay and she was sick and tired of people walking out with perforating abdominal wounds when they should be in bed and if no one was going to respect her authority then she would just take the next flight home on the _Daedalus_.” A wistful note crept into his voice. “Kinda wish I’d been there to see that.”

Okay, John really didn’t want to talk about Jennifer right now. Even if it did seem as though she was having a terminal breakdown.

Fortunately, Rodney didn’t seem to want to talk about her, either. “Anyway, according to Ronon, he’s had worse in a knife fight with a Wraith and there wasn’t any ‘stay in bed for at least twenty-four hours and no heavy lifting for four weeks.’ A simple appendectomy? Piffle!” Rodney snapped his fingers. “No force on Atlantis could have held Ronon back, or Teyla either, for that matter.”

As much as Rodney’s words warmed the small cold place in John’s heart that always felt abandoned, strain cracked his voice again when he spoke. “That doesn’t explain you. Here. Naked. How exactly is that supposed to help?”

Rodney looked affronted, an expression that would have made John laugh at any other time. “Didn’t I tell you? I guess not. Anyway, part of the ritual-prophesy-whatever is that you get pegged out here in the arena.”

Once again, Rodney missed the sexual significance of his words, and John wondered what exactly had been that dart that made him focus on such inconsequential things.

“The prophesy allows for a Champion, however,” Rodney went on, completely oblivious. If someone can free you from the arena without getting you killed or getting killed themselves, then you are free to go, the prophesy will be fulfilled in a good way, and all trade can proceed. So here I am. As for the naked part, well, the cultists want proof that I didn’t bring any weapons into the pit and that no bugs have attacked me, same as you.” He turned his palms up with a flourish. 

“And how do you plan to rescue me?” Sudden anger made his words harsh. JFC, Rodney was going to get them both killed. “By talking the bugs to death?”

Rodney had no right looking so wounded. “Okay, all things considered, I might have deserved that. There was no time to wait for anyone else to get here. They were going to proceed with the ceremony right away, and by agreeing to be your champion and arguing for allowing Ronon and Teyla to come, I bought us some time. But I do have a plan. You’ll see. And look! The bugs are starting to move off of you!”

He spoke in the happy tone used by Fezzik when he pointed out to Westley that he could wiggle his thumb after being mostly dead all day. Indeed, the bugs had gradually shifted in position as the sunlight broke through the clouds and shone down over John where he lay. Slowly, the shadow cast by the walls was shrinking, and the bugs were moving in accordance with it. 

Rodney stood, flexing his toes. “I wish I could move into the shade, too. It’s getting pretty toasty out here.” He twisted to look over his shoulder and down at his ass. “I could really get badly sunburned.”

Since all of Rodney’s skin was as pale as the proverbial White Whale, John didn’t see where any one spot was at more risk than another. A few of the bugs lingered in Rodney’s shadow as it fell across John’s body, so Rodney stepped farther back. Even though the warm of the sun bathed John’s skin now, like an idiot, he missed the warmth of Rodney’s closeness the moment he’d stepped away.

As the minutes passed, the bugs rippled across John’s skin with a small sibilant sound, piling up on top of each other to get out of the direct sunlight.

John and Rodney both flinched when a member of the crowd suddenly shouted disapproval at them. Others took up the protest, chanting what sounded like the word ‘cheat’ over and over again. Or possibly ‘feast.’ It was hard to tell.

“I suppose it could be worse.” Rodney’s grin said that he could read John’s mind. “They could be shouting, ‘Rock! Rock!’ At least we’re not about to play out a scene from _Galaxy Quest_ here.”

“Well, at least you already have your shirt off.” John tossed the quip off tiredly, causing Rodney to give him a sharp glance.

A flurry of pebbles rained down from above, resulting angry shuffling of bugs.

“Hey!” Rodney straightened to full height, hands on hips as he glared up at the angry spectators. His cock stood at half-mast, rising in apparent indignation. Despite his nakedness, Rodney could have been yelling at a room full of his minions back on Atlantis. “Knock it off!”

In response, someone hurled a heavy rock down from above, narrowly missing John and causing a surge of bug movement.

Striking with the rapidity and deadly accuracy of a rattlesnake, Rodney snatched up the largest bug, the one still nestled against John’s cock. It squirmed in Rodney’s hands as he held down its legs. A high pitched squeal of anger emanated from the bug, its tail lashing as it tried to strike Rodney with it. Rodney screamed back at it, open-mouthed with rage as an unbelievable wall of sound boiled out of him. Spinning like a discus-thrower with the bug in his hands, he wailed like a banshee as he hurled the bug through the air and into the crowd.

There was much shrieking from above, and then the comforting whine of Ronon’s blaster.

“Well, I guess there’ll be no more of that nonsense.” Rodney’s voice was hoarse but he sounded smug, too. He settled back down into a squat. Picking up one of the flatter stones, he poked around in the soil and found another rock with a sharp point to it. Humming to himself, he scraped the two together.

John didn’t have the heart to tell him he was probably taking the edge off the stone rather than making it sharper. He watched as Rodney focused on sharpening the stone, saw the flare of his nostrils as he tried to control his breathing, the redness in his face that spread in ugly blotches down his neck and chest. Knew his blood pressure was through the roof and that Rodney didn’t care.

It felt as though the frame that held John’s heart burst apart and his love for Rodney beat in his chest three sizes larger than normal.

Time passed slowly, as marked by the continued shift of the bugs off John’s body and into the thin line of shadow created by it. Rodney didn’t wait until they had all moved; he began sawing at the leather thongs closest to him with his makeshift knife as soon as that side of John’s body was clear of bugs.

Not wanting to get his hopes up, John watched as Rodney worked at the leather holding him down, his stone knife chewing at the straps with dull teeth. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Rodney muttered when his hand slipped and the rock bit into John’s wrist.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve had worse.”

Rodney paused for a moment to beam down at John with an expression so full of love that John couldn’t believe it. It had to be the drug in his system telling him lies. Tearing his gaze away from Rodney, he forced himself to ask the question whose answer he didn’t want to hear.  
“So once I’m free, then what? They’re not exactly going to let us out the gate, McKay.”

Rodney concentrated on loosening his bonds, giving up on cutting them with the stone knife and using the point to tease the knot apart. “No, but there has to be a way out through the cave. And before you ask, the one behind your head.

There was no point in telling McKay that it was a fatal error to assume the cave had another exit. Instead, he felt obligated to share what he knew of the situation. “There’s an Iratus queen around here somewhere.”

“I know.” Rodney might well have been Han Solo responding to Princess Leia when she told him that she loved him at the end of _The Empire Strikes Back_. “Trust me, I have a plan.

John was beginning to wonder if Rodney’s repetitive use of that phrase was some sort of wicked Pegasus payback for all the times John had so blithely assured his team he had a plan when he’d just been making it up as he went along.

Having freed John’s limbs on the side next to him, Rodney leaned across John to saw away at the bond on his other wrist. The action brought Rodney chest to chest with John, and a bead of sweat dropped off Rodney’s forehead and onto John’s skin.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rodney said again, and his words had a distinctly Canadian tone to them. John wanted to laugh again, but he didn’t. This was turning too real, to close to maybe, too possible that they might get out of this alive in order to mock it now.

Instead, John flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes. He still couldn’t feel his feet very well, but maybe he’d be able to move when the time came just the same.

Grunting with the effort of undoing the leather tie, Rodney seemed oblivious that he was pressing into John’s skin, his toes scrabbling in the dirt for purchase as he slid across John’s body for leverage.

John’s dick picked a poor time to decide to come out of hiding. The last thing he wanted was for his cock to press up against Rodney’s thigh at such a moment, but maybe if he stared at the sky and pretended nothing was happening...

It was with relief that Rodney suddenly released John’s other hand. Gently pushing Rodney back, John sat up.“Let me,” he said, holding his hand out for the stone knife. 

Rodney seemed grateful for the break, rocking back on his heels and wiping his brow. “Getting hot now.” He sounded remarkably cheerful.

“Uh-huh.” John ignored Rodney to reach between his feet and work on the last remaining bond. It gave unexpectedly, causing his hand to slip and the stone blade to skitter across his skin. He cursed vehemently.

“Ouch.” Rodney’s voice was sympathetic. “You okay?”

“Yes, goddamn it.” John knew he was snapping but he couldn’t help it. Now that he was no longer tied down, it seemed wrong that Rodney was the one in charge of this rescue operation. He had to take back control of the situation. Pushing himself up with his hands, he slumped to the ground, unable to get his feet underneath him.

“Careful, now. Watch for bugs as you get up.” Rodney had his arm around John’s shoulder and was there, suddenly pulling John to his feet. John leaned into him; he had no other choice. There was sweat and sand and Rodney was too close and too far away at the same time. Rodney was lifting him with one arm, using the other to first flick away some remaining bugs, then support John around his waist. John glanced down at the skinned knuckles and the dirty nails of Rodney’s hand. They would get out of this alive. They had to.

A roar burst from the crowd as they stood together.

John looked up, and for the first time, saw Ronon and Teyla in the crowd. Teyla looked both worried and relieved, raising her hand slightly when he made eye contact with her. Ronon, however, appeared to be in heavy negotiations with the people around him.

“He’s taking bets, the bastard.” Rodney bristled with indignation.

Ronon saw them looking up at him and held up a fistful of crystal, the shards sticking out from between his fingers like the blades on Wolverine’s hand. John flipped him the bird and Ronon grinned like a fiend.

“Can you walk?” Rodney must have turned his head because his breath was warm in John’s ear.

“I need help.”

“Okay, it’s just—”

“I know.” Now that the sun was shining down in the center of the arena, the bugs were making a steady retreat for the walls, as well as the cave where they had intended to retreat. They needed to get inside while there was still room to move without squishing bugs. The backside of the arena abutted the side of a mountain. Above the black hole of the cave entrance, a heavy stone door hung suspended from a complicated system of pulleys. It was gratifying to know he’d been right, that there had been a means of trapping the bugs while people entered the arena.

John leaned heavily into Rodney for support. “What’s the next part of the plan, boss?”

John’s deference to him steadied Rodney; he could feel Rodney straighten and tighten his grip on John with the strength of multiple Grinches. “Okay, this part’s a little tricky. We enter the cave.”

John took several staggering steps toward the gaping hole in the mountain with Rodney’s help. “The cave filled with bugs. The cave where the queen went.” The cave that they hoped had another exit but probably didn’t.

“Yes, yes.” Irritation and fear sharpened Rodney’s voice. He pulled John against his side and together the two of them lurched for the entrance to the cave, while the noise from the crowd overhead grew to a hysterical pitch. “I’ve got this covered, you know.”

John knew when Rodney was faking it and when he had the goods. He could tell that Rodney did indeed have a plan; but that Rodney wasn’t 100% sure it would work. Fair enough. John leaned into him, savoring every moment as though it were his last. It probably was.

The noise from the crowd above was unreal; John could not tell if they were being cheered or jeered. The sound of an altercation broke out above their heads, and there was much shouting. There was also what sounded remarkably like bodies flying through the air and landing with a hard thud against something immovable. Above the cave entrance, the stone slab creaked and swayed on its moorings.

“John!” Teyla sounded out of breath as she shouted. Like she was busy doing something strenuous at the same time. “They are attempting to close the portal!”

The stone door started to descend with a groan of ropes and a shower of dust, only to halt abruptly.

“Run now, McKay!” 

Together he and Rodney made a stumbling dash for the entrance to the cave. If there was no other way out, it was going to prove a short trip. John liked to think their deaths would be quick and painless, but he knew better. Well, at least it would be quick.

They made it to the cave entrance as the slab slid down another couple of feet, only to stop again. As it was, they had to duck under it; Rodney lifting his knees like a Vegas showgirl as he tried to avoid stepping on any bugs near the entrance. The door began moving again no sooner as they entered; even the sound of Ronon’s blaster didn’t stop it this time. The door crashed to the ground that sent a shock wave through to their feet. When the last bit of light was cut off, John felt just like Indiana Jones when he and Marion were thrown into the tomb of poisonous snakes.

“Pity you’re not wearing a pretty dress we can make into a torch,” John said into the breathless silence that followed.

A tiny green light appeared in front of John, somewhere around his midsection. The glow bobbled a bit, as it seemed to follow the track of his body hair southward, and then suddenly the beam shot up and was pointed into the darkness in front of him.

“Damn. I was hoping this light source would be stronger. Unfortunately, it was the largest glow-stick I could hide in my ear.” Rodney moved the weak source of light around them in a half circle. They could barely see six inches in front of them. John could see now that Rodney had broken one of the glow sticks they kept in their packs and somehow managed to seal the end so it was still functional but a fraction of the original size.“I guess we’ll have to move slowly, then.”

“Tell me, McKay. Did they set a time limit on this ritual, by any chance? For all the Bug People know, we could be dead in here right now.”

He heard Rodney’s sharp intake of breath. “Nothing was said about a time limit. Not that I know of, at any rate.”

“Right.” John tried not to sigh. “Well, this is your show. Let’s get it on the road.”

The chance to show off his genius seemed to buck Rodney up, as John knew it would.

“Okay, so here’s how it’s going to go down. When I sent the rest of the team back to Atlantis, I slipped some very specific instructions back with them.”

“Go on.” John said encouragingly. Their progress forward into the cave was painfully slow. The two of them clutched each other like two little old ladies trying to assist one another across a busy road. They could only shuffle forward, hoping they wouldn’t run into anything that wanted to eat them.

“Ronon brought back everything I needed to construct a rudimentary mobile hologram transmitter. I cobbled together something that I think will keep the Iratus bugs at bay when we enter the cave. A projection of a natural predator combined with pheromones to make them stay out of our way. It has a limited power supply, though, given the need to keep it very small, and so Ronon didn’t activate it until I got you free from your bonds.”

“I thought you smelled nice.” John’s drawl was more of a slur and he felt Rodney stiffen beside him.

“Can you focus here, Sheppard?” Tension raised the pitch of Rodney’s voice. “Things are about to get very intense here, and I’d like to know that you were over the effects of the bug juice.”

They were going to die anyway. Might as well enjoy the ride. “I’m cool.”

He could tell by the rigidity of Rodney’s muscles that Rodney wasn’t so sure about that. 

John remembered the soldiers that had died trying to get the necessary DNA to reverse the infection that time he’d been turning into a bug. He heard their screams in his nightmares sometimes, even though he’d been more alien than human at the time. He didn’t want to lose Rodney that way, and his fear made him stumble.

Rodney caught him with surprising strength.

Stalling for time to regain his equilibrium in every sense of the word, John said, “Mobile holo-emitter, eh? You just came up with that on the spot?”

“Don’t you know? Everything that shows up on _Star Trek_ becomes a reality sooner or later.” Rodney’s amusement touched something deep in John, combining with the familiar rush of adrenaline that bordered on exhilaration. “I would love to tell you that I came up with the design on the spot, but the truth is I’ve been working on it for months now. It was going to be a surprise. Ronon’s got the transmitter hidden in his hair.”

“Where’s the receiver?” He was surprised Rodney had gotten through the gate with the glow stick, let alone something as complicated as a receiver for a holo-emitter.

John could feel the heat of his embarrassment everywhere Rodney’s skin touched his.

“Somewhere no one will ever find it. I’m surprised it’s still working, to be honest.”

Nothing like setting up a challenge and begging John to take it. “Bet I can find it.”

Rodney said nothing, and John immediately regretted his words. They continued forward, with Rodney holding out the glow stick like a talisman to ward off evil as they slowly shuffled and bumped their way deeper into the cave.

“What are the natural predators of Iratus bugs?” Curiosity compelled John to ask. Hard to believe there was anything out there that would take on an Iratus bug.

“You remember the dinosaur planet? Turns out those T-rexes eat Iratus bugs, among other things. Raid their nests, eat their eggs. The biology department thinks the hide of the dinosaurs protects them from the venom.” Rodney’s voice echoed weirdly off the walls of the cave.

“We’re not exactly T-rex sized, McKay.”

“Will you stop worrying? It’ll be good enough, trust me. Big T-rexes wouldn’t fit in a cave anyway.”

The path inside the cave sloped downward and Rodney’s grip on John tightened as they slithered their way into what felt like the maw of a killer whale. They could hear the movement of bugs all around them, fluttering and chirring to themselves. To John’s relief, the bugs nearest to them seemed to move away on their approach. The tunnel eventually turned, and the change in pressure against his ears suggested to John that they were entering an open cavern. Together he and Rodney shuffled forward, trying not to bang into boulders or crash into a pile of bugs. John could smell the fear and sweat emanating off Rodney’s skin, and it smelt better than it had any right to do. Unless, of course, that was the dinosaur pheromones talking to him. 

Rodney stumbled as the floor went uphill again, and the two of them almost fell. 

“This is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.” Rodney’s voice was small, almost swallowed up by the darkness. It pressed in on them, heavy, damp, and nearly suffocating. John had to put his hand out once to keep from running into the wall, and something slithered out from beneath his fingers.

Up ahead of them, there was a faint glow. Rodney tightened his grip on John when he spotted it. Slowly, they made their way toward it.

“See?” Excitement electrified Rodney’s voice, all the more seductive for the closeness and the wall of darkness all around them. “I told you there would be a way out!”

A growing sense of foreboding weighed John down and he couldn’t tell if it was because their escape had been too easy or because he was looking at having to confess his feelings to Rodney. “Wait up.”

Rodney had pulled ahead of him slightly, relying on John to hold up more of his own weight as Rodney ploughed toward the light up ahead. John felt as though he was standing on a ledge, holding on to Rodney’s hand as he dangled beneath John, fingers starting to slip.

“Come on, we’re almost there!”

John dug his fingers into Rodney’s flesh and pulled him backward.

“Ow! That’s going to leave bruises!”

“Shut up, McKay.” John’s command-voice lashed out through the darkness and he felt Rodney freeze underneath his grip. “It’s too easy. We just walk out the back door? Come on, you know better than that.”

He felt Rodney’s shoulders slump. Rodney pressed into him, as though realizing for the first time just how dark it was in the cave. “You’re thinking it’s a trap.” His voice sounded hollow.

“Isn’t it always?”

Using Rodney for balance, John stooped down and picked up a handful of splintered rock from the floor of the cave. Experimentally, he chucked a few pebbles to one side. There was a delay of several seconds before he heard contact with the far wall.

The light up ahead faded and went out.

“Crap.” The intake of Rodney’s breath was painfully loud. “You think...?”

“Yeah. Probably not even the exit at all. One of those little dangly glow-lights—”

“I know, I know. Over the mouth of a big nasty fish. Now what?”

The queen was in there somewhere, and she wasn’t likely just to let them go. There were lots of bugs in there with them, too. Chances were high that there was a web across the path in front of them, and the bugs were just waiting for them to become snared in it. 

“Damn it, you didn’t by any chance hide a P-90 up your ass, did you, McKay?”

Rodney went rigid beside him once more. “No, I didn’t. There was a limited amount I could do in the time available, thank you very much. Though I’ll have you know—” Rodney broke off suddenly.

“You’ll have me know what?” Speculation of how Rodney might have completed that sentence distracted John momentarily. 

“Nothing, nothing. Never mind.”

John stamped one foot experimentally. The familiar pins and needles sensation was welcome for once. Good. So the numbness from before was just a circulation problem. Rodney shifted beside him, obviously turning his head to look back the way they’d come, for all the good it would do him. The twist to Rodney’s body brought his cock bumping up against John.

Rodney froze as John brought his hands up to catch Rodney by the elbows and prevent him from turning further. The glow of the stick light in Rodney’s hand highlighted the area between them. John couldn’t help but look down at where they were in contact with each other.

“Sorry, sorry.” Rodney’s mortification radiated off of him in waves.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s cool.”

“John?” Rodney’s voice cracked on his name. “We’re going to get out of this, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” John lied automatically before that ‘heart three sizes too big’ thing suddenly kicked in. “Yes,” he said with more authority. If he could only see what they were up against.

The walls around them began to glow with a softly diffused blue light.

“Did you do that? Of course you did that! The walls, the walls are covered with crystals!” Rodney got excited, gripping John’s arms, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “No wonder the Ancients based their tech around crystals—in the raw form they respond to the ATA gene! This is _amazing_!”

“Don’t go all Daniel Jackson on me, now.” John let go of Rodney, straightening to make his assessment of the situation.

“You know, I think I’ve just been insulted and complimented at the same time.” Rodney tucked the remnant of the glowstick back in his ear, in case they needed it for later, John presumed.

The light from the surrounding crystals increased in strength slowly, the shadows melting back to reveal thousands of Iratus bugs in piles around the room. Above, the darkness stretched away, reaching up into the black recesses of the mountain above them. Directly in front of them, the queen sat, as though on a throne, surrounded by dozens of eggs. Off to her right, there was a tall column of rock that seemed to be part of the wall itself, but as John stared at it, he saw the faint flutter of a strand of webbing hanging nearby. He watched even harder, but it didn’t happen again. Webbing lined several walls as well, and the path on which they’d been headed dead-ended into a funnel-like web.

“Did you see that? Movement of air. I think there’s another tunnel on the other side of that big rock. One that must lead to the outside.” John pointed at the rock formation next to the queen.

“Of _course_ , we have to go that way,” Rodney grumbled. “Because every story needs a dragon sleeping on its treasure. Pity I’m fresh out of magic rings.”

They inched their way forward, the careful navigation of the cave much easier with the brilliant glow of blue and white crystal all around them. John didn’t take his eyes off of the queen as they skirted her position, her body flaps rising and falling slowly as her bright red abdomen swelled and contracted. 

“You’re sure that holo-emitter is still working?” It made John’s skin crawl to walk that close to the queen, but they had no choice.

“Well, we’re still alive, aren’t we?” Rodney obviously hadn’t lost the ability to be testy, but he pressed in behind John so close that he was bumping John every other step. 

“Walking a little close there, aren’t you, McKay?”

Only Rodney could make a noise of exasperation like that. “Grow up, Colonel. I have to remain in contact with you or else the dinosaur hologram won’t extend to you.”

“Oh.” There didn’t seem to be much more to say to that. He was glad for cool blue light around them. There was no way Rodney could see him blush from head to foot.

They came abreast of the stone pillar. At the far end of it, a narrow beam of natural light shone. The end of the passage had to open out into the forest above.

“I told you there had to be a way out.” Rodney punched his shoulder from behind. “How else would the bugs feed?”

“No guarantee the hole will be big enough for us to crawl through, McKay.”

“Oh please. Come on, we’re almost there.”

All they had to do was swing past the queen and enter the narrow tunnel.

John turned his head toward Rodney, sensing that Rodney was doing the same back to him. It occurred to John that they’d been doing this sort of thing for years now and that, with any luck they’d be doing it for years to come. He gave Rodney’s hand a firm squeeze. “Let’s do this.” 

The queen appeared not to notice them, sitting motionless on her throne of eggs as they eased their way past her. Rodney let out a deep breath as they cleared her circumference and entered the cleft in the rock.

“Almost there, almost there,” Rodney murmured as they squeezed into the tight passage. The light ahead was so close, so tantalizing. John could smell the fresh air outside. He thought he could hear birdsong as well; he could taste their freedom and victory. Still in close contact with Rodney, skin on skin, triumph raised its giddy head, promising John everything he’d always wanted if he just went faster, if they raced for the exit.

It was, of course, too good to be true.

There was an egg in the middle of the passageway. To step their way over it, John and Rodney had to break contact—the cleft was just too tight. As they pushed past the egg, Rodney brushed up against it, causing it to tip over. Instinctively, Rodney reached for it to right it. John grabbed his arm just as Rodney steadied it back on its end. Rodney let out a sigh of relief as he let go and the egg remained upright.

It didn’t matter. The queen, sensing a disturbance, emitted a high-pitched squeal that jolted right through John. Rodney must have felt it too because he twisted his head to one side and tucked his head into his shoulder as though the sound was piercing an eardrum.

The wail of the queen stirred her minions to life, causing an angry wave of bugs to boil across the walls and floor in John and Rodney’s direction. 

“Now what?” John yelled, conscious of mimicking Rodney on that fateful day when the UberWraith attacked them.

Rodney inexplicably pulled his arms into his sides and made pawing motions at the air. “I have one more trick left,” he yelled, blowing through his lips as though expelling something. The bugs nearest to them fell back.

“What was that?” John shouted over the increasing noise from the bugs.

“Flames. I made us fire-breathing T-rexes.” Rodney panted beside him, his fingers digging into John’s arm where he clutched it again.

The bugs had indeed retreated somewhat, only to surge forward once more. They poured into the tunnel like tidal wave, bugs crawling over each other in an attempt to be the first in line.

“Guess that didn’t fool them.” Rodney’s voice was taut with fear and desperation. The queen herself was moving now, the sea of bugs parting before her as she hissed her intent on destroying those that threatened her young.

 _Fuck this shit._

John dropped his chin and glared at the queen, dredging up all his hatred of Iratus bugs, and Wraith, and everything in Pegasus that had killed or threatened his people. He thought of Ronon and Teyla, coming to this world in the guise of family, but also bringing Rodney the equipment he needed to try and save John. He thought of Rodney beside him, doing his best despite his overwhelming fear, and his promise to tell Rodney how he felt about him when all this was over.

The energy in the cave crackled, setting both John and Rodney’s hair standing on end as it built up across the crystals lining the walls. The cavern grew incandescent with the glow of energy leaping from crystal to crystal until it coalesced into a wavering beam, creating a focal point that suddenly lashed out and zapped the queen. Her body jerked and pulsed with the input of the beam, sizzling as the smell of burning bug flesh filled the air. She twitched and spasmed until she flipped over on her back, her legs twitching in the air. The beam died out, and John gripped Rodney by the arm even harder than before.

“Run!” he shouted, dragging Rodney behind him.

They pelted their way up the tunnel, elbows and knees knocking into stone walls until they burst out into the sweet-smelling woods. The daylight was blinding after being in the dark, and Rodney stumbled and went down heavily. John hauled him back to his feet and dragged him along, not slowing down until their feet hit the path covered with soft pine-needles. He pulled Rodney along further until they were well away from the entrance to the cave.

“Stop, stop!” Rodney protested at last, bending over hands on knees to catch his breath. “Did we make it? I think we made it!” He huffed and puffed, glancing up to catch John’s eye with a bright, exultant smile.

John pressed his hands down on his thighs and tossed his head back, taking in great gulps of air.

“We made it,” John whooped at last. “I don’t think anyone can argue with that. We made it fair and square.” Granted, Rodney had slipped some equipment in on the sly, but then again, the bastards had tried to shut the gate on them.

“Only because you created a new weapon out of the raw crystal. You realize we’re going to have to try and recreate that, right?”

John envisioned lots of hours with him and Rodney in the lab, trying to make a weapon that ATA carriers could use with their mind. This did not trouble him one bit. He had no doubt that it would prove impossible to duplicate the exact conditions, the exact emotions necessary to make his own Ancient Bug Zapper. But hey, this was Pegasus. You never knew.

“You realize, McKay,” he drawled, aware that he was giving Rodney his most disarming smile, “that your hologram made us into little Godzillas, right?”

Predictably, Rodney straightened, looking indignant. He was sweaty, dirty,and covered with smears of gray clay mixed with the blood of several scrapes but he looked magnificent. “What? No! Are you insane? I modeled the holographic images on the T-rexes we ran into on M9Q-322. Bad Japanese monster films had nothing to do with it.”

“Fire-breathing.” John tucked his arms into his chest and waved his hands with the same pawing motion Rodney had exhibited down in the cave.  
Rodney started to protest, then his face fell and he covered it with one hand.

John released his donkey laugh, the one that made him sound seriously uncool. “Godzilla,” he brayed. “God, Rodney, I love you so much.”

The words hung between them as soon as they were spoken, both of them frozen with shock as they looked at each other. Before John could protest that he didn’t mean them in that way, that he meant in the way a friend loves another, there was a shimmering in the air and a puddle jumper hovered above them.

“Well,” Rodney said, shooting John a sharp-eyed glance. “Surely knew I had a back-up plan in place? When Ronon and Teyla came through the Gate, Lorne brought in a cloaked jumper full of marines as well.”

***

John being John, retreated from Rodney as soon as they all got safely back to Atlantis. About the time John decided maybe he should seek out Rodney after all, Rodney being Rodney, pulled a retreat of his own.

Teyla being Teyla, confronted John on the third day.

John, however, was having none of it.

“You let him go into a pit of Iratus bugs. Naked.” John was a little surprised at how angry he was. “Tell me how that was a good idea?”

Teyla merely raised that eyebrow of hers, the one that normally made everyone halt in their tracks and think hard about the insensitive thing they had just said. “Rodney seemed to have a viable plan once we arrived. Really, there was little else that we could do, under the circumstances. We were prepared to intervene on your behalf, of course—”

John cut her off. “Walker and Stevens laid down a suppressing fire for Carson when he entered that cave to try and collect bug DNA to save me. They were right there on the spot and they couldn’t prevent the Iratus bugs from swarming and killing them. If Rodney and I had gotten into trouble, we’ve have been dead before you and Ronon could have gotten there.”

“John.” Teyla’s hand on his arm stilled further angry protest on his part. “There was no other way. You were already in the pit. Rodney had already been accepted as your Champion. Ronon wanted to be the one to go after you, but once a Champion was named, there was no going back. Besides, only Rodney knew how to operate his new holo-emitter. If something had gone wrong, he would have been the only one to be able to fix it.”

John knew she was right, but his anger burned inside him just the same.

“Your people have a saying, yes? ‘All is well that ends well.’ I do not understand why you are so upset.”

John wanted to correct her in her quotation, to force her to use a contraction, damn it, but his anger petered out of him. “Yeah, you’re right. Never mind.”

He felt her concerned gaze upon him as he walked away.

 _Wait a second_.

Stopping abruptly in his tracks, he turned to look over his shoulder at Teyla. “Aren’t you going to nag me to go talk to Rodney?”

He couldn’t recall Teyla ever looking so smug before. She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin in an oddly Rodney-like manner. “Why would you think I would do that?”

He blinked. “Um, because you always know what’s going on before anyone else does? In here, I mean.” He pointed to the side of his skull with his index finger. “I can almost hear you saying, ‘Go speak with Rodney.’ Like we were fighting or something. Which we’re not.”

“If you can almost hear me saying it, than you obviously know what you should do.” She paused for a moment before her lips curved into a wicked smile. “You do not need me to ‘put a bug in your ear’, do you?”

John groaned and hung his head for a moment, before giving Teyla a sketchy two-fingered salute and continuing on his way.

Ronon cornered him next. 

“You should be pleased.” Ronon’s smile was toothy. “I won thirty-seven crystals off you guys the other day, and that guy Ustan won’t be giving us any more trouble. He bet against you two surviving, and as a result, lost the rights to negotiate on behalf of the miner’s guild. They were willing to drop their demands for goods by thirty percent.”

John did the unthinkable. He shoved Ronon back against the wall, hard.

Ronon curled his lip just like a dog, locking eye contact with John. A split second too late, it occurred to John that Ronon was taller, stronger, and at least a decade younger than him. Not to mention, the whole ‘survived seven years as a Runner’ thing. John was the Chihuahua that had unthinkingly bitten a Rottweiler, and now he was about to pay for it.

“I’m going to forget you did that.” Ronon stretched the muscles in his neck when John released him and glared at John balefully. Rottweiler, hell. Ronon was more like a lion. Which made John...stupid.

“Sorry.” John mumbled his apology, backing off and shoving his hands in his pockets. He met Ronon’s eye and pretended he hadn’t just had his authority challenged. 

“You’re just mad because McKay came up with a plan as nutty as one of yours—and it worked.” Ronon sounded insufferably pleased with himself, causing John to lock gazes with him. “Do everyone a favor and tell him how you feel about him.”

“I did.” John’s voice sounded pathetic, even if he did say so himself. There was no point in denying anything. Well, hell. If Ronon could see it, he and Chuck were probably running a betting pool as to when he and Rodney would get together. Which just... “You’re not trying to influence the outcome of a bet, now are you?”

Ronon laughed, clapping John on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “I already won one this morning. You heard about Keller, right?”

John frowned. “No, what?”

“Put in for a transfer back to your planet.”

“Did she now?” John raised a thoughtful eyebrow.

Ronon manhandled John until he was facing the direction of the labs. “That’s another one you owe me. Now go. Talk to him, Sheppard, before I have to knock some sense into the two of you.”

John gave Ronon his command-face, the one that said, ‘I’m the boss over you’ but they both knew Ronon accepted John’s leadership because he chose to do so. Best not to push it any more than he already had.

“Just go.” Ronon pointed down the hallway like he was sending a reluctant collie home. He stalked off without a backward glance. 

John waited until he was almost around the curve of the hallway before calling out, “Channeling your inner Teyla, eh Ronon?”

He beat a hasty retreat before Ronon could turn around. He did not, however, head toward the labs. A quick check of his watch told him that if he went down now, Rodney would be in the middle of something and unlikely to want to take a break. No, this called for a little discrete surveillance on his part before making his move.

****

At precisely 2045, having changed into civilian clothes and snagged a couple of bottles of Rodney’s favorite beer, Molson’s, he headed to Rodney’s quarters. The glass was still beaded with condensation as he pressed the signal on Rodney’s door. If Rodney had acted according to John’s sources, he’d worked until 1800, headed to the mess for some dinner, and gone back to the labs to deal with some city maintenance issues. At 2015, he’d left the labs, leaving orders that he was not to be disturbed unless the planet was in danger of being sucked into a black hole, or that someone could demonstrate to him the true charge radius of a proton. Having calculated his approach to include the time it took Rodney to reach his quarters and take a 20 minute shower, John felt that his timing was perfect.

“Now what?” Rodney’s bellow could be heard from inside the room. He approached the door like a train coming into the station, emitting loud noises and belching steam. “I swear to God, this better not be related to the water reclamation tanks because I told you already I am taking the night off for a change.” 

He opened the door on that note, his mouth dropping for a brief moment before snapping shut like a turtle’s. “Sheppard.” He didn’t sound too friendly, though his expression softened at the sight of the bottles dangling from between John’s fingers.” His lips twitched from side to side, as though arguing with the Good Angel and the Bad Angel on each shoulder, and decision made, he backed up and motioned John into his quarters.

“You got a bottle opener?” John could have brought his Leatherman with him, but he’d given Rodney a multi-function survival tool a few years back that Rodney took inordinate pride in using. He watched as Rodney wordlessly took out the credit card-sized piece of metal and fitted one of the cut-out shapes to the lid on the bottle and pried it off. Rodney opened both bottles, slipping the tool into his desk drawer and handing John a beer. He was dressed for comfort in a faded brown T-shirt and gray sweat pants, his hair still damp from his recent shower.

And he was pissed.

John took a swig from his bottle as the silence stretched uncomfortably between them. He would have bet anything that Rodney would say something first. Those blue eyes glittered dangerously over the beer bottle as Rodney lifted it and drank. It wasn’t like Rodney to simmer quietly. The explosion he’d made when he’d thought John was someone from the labs was more like him.

“So, ah, Ronon tells me that Keller is resigning.” He could have smacked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was remind Rodney of his girlfriend.

“Yes.” Rodney gave the word a crisp Canadian pronunciation and walked over to his desk, flipping the bottle caps in the trash can beside it. He stood with his back to John as he took another swallow of beer.

Crap. This wasn’t going very well. Maybe John should just leave. The temptation to do just that was strong, very strong, but then John remembered his vow to say something to Rodney because they almost didn’t have a next time last time and because Rodney deserved it. Okay, so this sharing of feelings crap wasn’t John’s forte. But hell, he’d strapped a nuclear bomb to his puddle jumper and flown it into a Hive ship. He’d been fed on by a Wraith, had almost killed his team while under the influence of mind-altering technology, and had nearly turned into a giant bug. He could _do_ this.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What does that mean for the two of you?”

Rodney whipped his head around to glare at John, who felt an internal sigh of relief at the sight. At least they were moving back on more familiar ground. “What do you think it means? That gives a whole new definition to ‘long distance relationship’, don’t you think?”

John took a sip of beer and desperately wished for something to lean on. “You, um, could go with her.”

The look Rodney gave him was one of outraged incredulity until it melted into hurt disappointment. John didn’t understand how anyone could wear all their emotions upfront like that. So raw. So naked.

“Is that what you think I should do?”

“Hell , no.” John’s response was instinctive, a return-fire before he even thought about it. “I mean, well, you know. If Keller’s not happy here and you love her...” He trailed off unhappily.

Rodney shrugged and sipped his beer. “Well, that’s the rub, isn’t it? She put me in the position of choosing between her and Atlantis, and it made me realize that no one who loved me would give me that kind of ultimatum, that I didn’t love her enough to give up the city for her. Which meant probably we _didn’t_ really love each other enough to be together.”

“Oh.” That’s all John said. Part of him burned to commiserate with Rodney, to say _how dare she?_ and _what was she thinking?_ But he didn’t. He recalled all too clearly what it was like to care about someone enough to fool yourself into believing it was love. That it would be enough. Nancy, too, had left after giving John an ultimatum that showed how little she understood him. Even though he was relieved when the marriage ended, it still sucked just the same. He’d loved Nancy to the best of his ability, but it hadn’t been enough for either of them. He hated that Rodney had to know what that felt like, too.

“She also said that we were Holmes and Watson, and that we’d forever be going off on a case, leaving her behind. That the game was always going to be afoot, and that the Game was always going to be more exciting than what she could offer.” Rodney screwed up his face to squint at John. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m Holmes, you’re Watson.”

“How do you figure that? If Keller is Mary—”

Rodney shook his head repeatedly. “No, no, no. That’s not the important part of the analogy. I’m the brains, you’re the guy with the gun. Holmes. Watson.” He pointed at each of them in turn as he spoke.

John argued just for the sake of it. It wasn’t like he really believed he was the Holmes in this relationship. In fact, Rodney would make an awesome Holmes, if Holmes was rude, and arrogant, and brilliant, and paranoid about wearing sunscreen. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Neither is Watson. Admittedly, he was played that way in some of the early movies, but seriously, could you see Holmes spending more than two minutes in his company if Watson was a moron? No, Holmes has to have seen something behind Watson’s lazy drawl, and his tendency to play at being a ladies man, and his undeniably rakish hair.” The faintest hint of a crooked smile lingered on his face as he looked at John. Then his brows suddenly beetled. “I’m mad at you.”

“You are?” Past experience told him he shouldn’t apologize for being absent these last few days because then that would imply that it had been on purpose, and he didn’t want to do that. He wanted Rodney to think there was no special reason that John hadn’t spoken to him in nearly four days.

“Yeah.” Rodney narrowed his eyes and pointed at John with the neck of his bottle. “You stole my thunder.”

_Oh, this was going to be good._

John thawed out of his frozen position mid-room and ambled casually over to Rodney’s desk, hitching a hip up on one corner and settling into a position of relaxation. “Exactly how did I steal your thunder, McKay?”

Rodney paused to drain his beer. John watched in fascination as he tipped his head back and his Adam ’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He set the empty bottle down and smiled tightly. John noted that his hair was getting long in the back, actually threatening to curl as it had in Rodney’s youth. He also realized that Rodney hadn’t shaved for a few days. The old T-shirt stretched tight across his chest, and his biceps stood out nicely when Rodney crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“There we were on the planet. You’d been abducted and given to the bugs. I knew I had just one shot at saving you, and that it would probably get us both killed in the process. Jennifer and I had just broken up—oh yes, you didn’t really think that Ronon’s escape from the infirmary was what put her over the edge, did you? No, that was just the excuse for her to vent. You know, if I’d known she could blow a gasket like that I might not have worked so hard to be someone I wasn’t. Anyway, there I am, about to make the Big Sacrifice, the Big Rescue. You know what I tell myself I’m going to do if I pull this off?” Rodney laughed slightly, as though he couldn’t believe it himself. “I was going to tell you how I feel about you. How I’ve felt about you all these years. Only you beat me to it by telling me you love me.”

John froze in the act of taking another drink from his bottle, his lips puckered against the cold glass as stared at Rodney. Did he just say what John thought he said? John lowered the bottle. “How you feel about me.” His voice was dead and flat.

“Yeah. Me. You.” Rodney untucked one hand to point first at himself, and then John, just has he had before. When John didn’t say anything, Rodney’s face underwent a radical change. The smugly smiling confident man disappeared, to be replaced by someone who thought he’d just made the biggest mistake of his entire life. “That is, in less by ‘I love you’, you meant, as a friend loves another friend. I mean, that’s cool, too. I mean, that’s cool. It’s fine. No problem.”

John began picking at the label on his bottle of beer, not looking up as he spoke. “I, uh, no. I mean, yes. I know what you mean.” Staring down at the handful of foil paper in his palm, he suddenly placed the scraps of label and the beer bottle on the desk and stood up. He ran a hasty hand through his hair, caught himself doing so, and cleared his throat. He couldn’t let Rodney suffer any longer. “Yeah, so, me too. I planned to say something to you, too. If we got out alive, that is.”

“You did?” Incredulity and delight warred to take the high note in Rodney’s voice, but delight won. 

His face lit up as though John had given him a ZPM, and John wanted to spend the rest of his life making Rodney feel that way.

“Yeah. Only I wasn’t planning to blurt it out like that. I was going to do it right.”

“Uh-huh.” Rodney stepped up to where John was half-sitting on the desk, close enough that his thigh brushed John’s knee. “I know you. If I’d waited for you to declare yourself, I’d still be waiting. That’s why I was going to say something. Only you beat me to it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” John shifted position so that he was sitting straight on the end of the desk now. He spread his legs to make room for Rodney to step in between them.

“Nothing about us makes any sense.” Rodney pressed in between John’s spread knees, his thighs coming to rest against the edge of the desk.  
By way of response, John reached up and pulled Rodney down into a kiss. He didn’t have to pull very hard. Rodney met him halfway, and then pressed John backward until he was leaning on one hand to keep from falling off the desk. He should have known what to expect. Kissing Rodney was like kissing a juggernaught, riding a big bomb of a wave into shore, flying an F-302 in a dogfight with Wraith Darts. It was exhilarating and dangerous and felt both totally out of control and completely right—and it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before in his life. _You’re wrong, Rodney. Everything about us makes sense. It’s the only thing that does._

Before he knew it, Rodney had him pinned against the desk, warm hands pulling up John’s shirt to seek skin, Rodney’s mouth with his bristly jaw both tender and savage as he kissed John within an inch of his life. John had his legs wrapped around Rodney’s hips, and he was pulling Rodney in closer, desperate to feel as much of Rodney’s weight and solidity against him, holding him down, keeping him grounded. Rodney broke off kissing John to brace himself over John on his hands, nostrils flaring as he regained control of his breathing. “I’ve got a bed.”

He said it was though he was making a profound observation.

“Yes, we all do.” John couldn’t help it. He spoke with the same tone of seriousness in his voice.

Rodney raised an eyebrow, his lower body still in contact with John, where the firm length of his cock was making itself known as he pressed up against John. “Why do you think I special ordered a larger bed all those years ago?” Rodney asked, his sarcasm more snark than bite. He stood up and held out a hand, thumb up, to John.

John clasped it and allowed Rodney to pull him to his feet. They stood facing each other for a moment, colleagues, team mates, friends, and about-to-be lovers. John glanced over Rodney’s shoulder at the decidedly large and comfortable-looking bed. “Because two grown men can’t fit into one of the typical beds here on Atlantis?”

“Exactly,” Rodney said, taking him by the wrist and pulling John along behind him. “Told you Watson wasn’t an idiot.”

John went with him without any resistance at all, smiling the entire way.

~fin


End file.
